A feeling greater than eating meat after a two month abstinence. Greater than seeing a friend after several years. More memorable than the first time you kiss someone. *clears throat* Anyway. The moment I am speaking of is Graduation, and the days following.
Let's start 14 years ago. My sister was in head-start, while I sat at home. Bored. I mean, VERY bored. But soon, my father discovered that family friend ran a small day-care in her home, which burned down like 10 years later. Different story though. Soon, I was there on a daily basis, and I loved it. I met lots of people, I started my schooling early, which helped push me to the point I am at today. I don't remember much from those days, but I know that they were very enjoyable.
Move on from there, and we find me in Kindergarten. Another fun filled adventure. I met a lot of people who became life long friends (or so I thought for several years), I learned a lot, and it was only half a day. Just enough time to keep me occupied, and not too long as to make me bored with it. Little did I know that that was going to change.
Bam! First grade. Huge change. I was up early in the morning, at the school with my packed lunch from ma, and having to walk to school. Back then I lived across the street so I didn't mind the walk. We usually had a group of about five or so kids walking over. I learned very quickly. By the first month, I had been placed in an advanced reading group and already knew basic multiplication and division (I have my dad and a freak find in Rite-Aid for that). However, that was when the trouble started. I felt like I had no friends, which was wrong, I felt abandoned and bullied, again not true. I turned to aggression and even focused it towards the teachers of my school. I was violent, belligerent, and out of control. By the third grade, I had made quite the file in the principal's office.
Finally my father said, enough. If I were to get in trouble one more time, he would pull me out and home school me. I didn't take him very seriously. I even remember the day I made the mistake and got in trouble. We had been in class all day. I was restless and it was too quiet for me. I grabbed two pencils and put them up my nose, and caused quite the uproar. When the teacher regained control she asked me to stay after the class. I wasn't worried until I saw her filling out an incident report. I panicked and broke down after the class left. I wasn't someone who took bad news easily. I pleaded with the teacher, explaining my plight. She merely shook her head and told me to call my father. Those words made my heart drop.
My father and I had had our conversation maybe two days before that fateful day. I slowly dialed the phone, still sobbing and gasping for air. When he picked up, he probably said Hello? about 5 times before I answered. Taking a deep breath I explained that I got in trouble. There was a bout a minute of silence, before he answered. His tone had changed. He sounded disappointed. And could I blame him? I was a bit of an idiot, took me several years to figure it out. We talked for about 15 minutes, mainly about what we were going to do now. When we finished, he came to the school and we sat in the car in total silence. The next day, we had both come to grips with what had happened. We decided that I should stay till the end of the term and then we would enroll me at a little place called Homesource.
I was worried when I heard that. My cousins went there. And they were strange to me. I always thought they were outcasts, rejects, and just plain weird (which, yet again, was wrong.). My first day at Homesource was as bad as I thought it would be. I only knew one person, and the people weren't all that social, so making friends was a useless endeavor. I hated that first term. The next year however, I was better prepared. I started to appreciate the little things. I got to sleep in, I had almost everyday open, and my homework was incredibly small. By the end of fourth grade, I had learned to like it, but I really wanted to go back to the way things were.
My parents felt that I had improved enough to go back. They couldn't have been more wrong. We had just moved so I was put into yet another new school. The teacher's and I never saw eye to eye, we always argued. I knew no one, again, but it was easier to make friends. With the weird kids. I fit in with them easier for some reason. I didn't mind it though, back then I had no real grasp of the difference in groups of kids. Still, I excelled at all subjects, math and reading being my primary specialties. When I left, I had a small following of nerds and geeks. We all had each other's back, until that big mean guy came along. Then they scattered like roaches. However, in Middle school, I had the same group. New bullies though. Using our lack of social skills, we slowly drew more and more "social outcasts" into our group. By 7th grade, we were larger than the popular kids and the jocks combined.
Oddly enough, I had mellowed out by then too. I was calmer and easier to talk to. People were more comfortable approaching me. And I also had a slight charm. Or that is what I was told. By the numerous girls asking me out. I rejected them all, which in hindsight should have been done a bit more tactfully than I did it. I made a lot of people mad at me still. I was constantly bullied and beaten. Back then I had learned to control aggression but I was no pacifist. I fought back on occasion. I won most of the time. It helped to be one of the tallest and biggest kids around. By the eighth grade people usually steered clear of me. Except for one freak incident on the bus when I got punched in the face because of a mis-communication between my sister and I.
Halfway through the eighth grade, most of my group had dissipated, and I found myself hanging with the younger crowd. They all looked up to me, and I liked that. I protected them from the big kids who were just total jerks. Then I graduated from Middle School. It wasn't a big thing. Just a faux ceremony with a phony diploma thing. But that summer, was a life changing one. I had a friend who worked at HomeSource. Those of you just joining us, or who think that this post is too long to remember squat from earlier, HomeSource is the school I saw as very anti-social. He asked why I left HomeSource. I explained that my folks didn't feel capable to teach me everything I needed. He informed me of a new development. HomeSource and an online Charter School were going to merge. I told my folks and we both felt it would be a good idea.
So I started classes online and through HomeSource. Some of it was nice, but I had lost all my skills with math. So the next year, I took math through HomeSource. It all came back to me. I aced it and started to really like the school. However, that year, something happened, I dunno the exact details, but HomeSource and the Charter School parted ways. Homesource decided that they could become a charter school of their own and they did a good job of it. I was loving my classes, I was making friends, and I was two years away from leaving school for good. Then this year I was making friends left and right. Everyone knew me, I was well liked by kids and teachers alike, and I was excited to leave. Barely scraping out of school I was within a month of getting out when I was hit with everything.
Things needed to be done for the graduation and everyone wanted to know my plans for the future. I was rushing to get the technical aspects of the ceremony done, trying to get people to cooperate with me. Finally the week before the ceremony, I had given up on one project and I was focused on one last project and was determined to finish it. And I did finish it. I got it done 3 hours before the ceremony, with more bugs than a cheap motel.
But finally, there I was. one hour from graduating. The teachers were speaking, the slide show played, students spoke, music was played, and then they started calling people up for their diplomas. I was in the middle so there were six people before me. As the person before me was still on stage, I slowly stood and took up my spot at the edge of the stage, smiling at the MC and looking at the crowd. Then, the MC turned and said my name. I was caught off guard. Not by them calling my name, but by the number of people who applauded. The cheers were loud and the whole auditorium was in an uproar. I was confused. I was not a popular person. My family wasn't that big. Why were so many people cheering? I never found out the answer, but I approached the end of the stage where stood my mother in tears, my father, looking as proud as I have ever seen him, and my step-mom, holding back a meltdown. The rest of the night was a blur.
But I knew one thing.
I was out.
And this time, for good.
Let's start 14 years ago. My sister was in head-start, while I sat at home. Bored. I mean, VERY bored. But soon, my father discovered that family friend ran a small day-care in her home, which burned down like 10 years later. Different story though. Soon, I was there on a daily basis, and I loved it. I met lots of people, I started my schooling early, which helped push me to the point I am at today. I don't remember much from those days, but I know that they were very enjoyable.
Move on from there, and we find me in Kindergarten. Another fun filled adventure. I met a lot of people who became life long friends (or so I thought for several years), I learned a lot, and it was only half a day. Just enough time to keep me occupied, and not too long as to make me bored with it. Little did I know that that was going to change.
Bam! First grade. Huge change. I was up early in the morning, at the school with my packed lunch from ma, and having to walk to school. Back then I lived across the street so I didn't mind the walk. We usually had a group of about five or so kids walking over. I learned very quickly. By the first month, I had been placed in an advanced reading group and already knew basic multiplication and division (I have my dad and a freak find in Rite-Aid for that). However, that was when the trouble started. I felt like I had no friends, which was wrong, I felt abandoned and bullied, again not true. I turned to aggression and even focused it towards the teachers of my school. I was violent, belligerent, and out of control. By the third grade, I had made quite the file in the principal's office.
Finally my father said, enough. If I were to get in trouble one more time, he would pull me out and home school me. I didn't take him very seriously. I even remember the day I made the mistake and got in trouble. We had been in class all day. I was restless and it was too quiet for me. I grabbed two pencils and put them up my nose, and caused quite the uproar. When the teacher regained control she asked me to stay after the class. I wasn't worried until I saw her filling out an incident report. I panicked and broke down after the class left. I wasn't someone who took bad news easily. I pleaded with the teacher, explaining my plight. She merely shook her head and told me to call my father. Those words made my heart drop.
My father and I had had our conversation maybe two days before that fateful day. I slowly dialed the phone, still sobbing and gasping for air. When he picked up, he probably said Hello? about 5 times before I answered. Taking a deep breath I explained that I got in trouble. There was a bout a minute of silence, before he answered. His tone had changed. He sounded disappointed. And could I blame him? I was a bit of an idiot, took me several years to figure it out. We talked for about 15 minutes, mainly about what we were going to do now. When we finished, he came to the school and we sat in the car in total silence. The next day, we had both come to grips with what had happened. We decided that I should stay till the end of the term and then we would enroll me at a little place called Homesource.
I was worried when I heard that. My cousins went there. And they were strange to me. I always thought they were outcasts, rejects, and just plain weird (which, yet again, was wrong.). My first day at Homesource was as bad as I thought it would be. I only knew one person, and the people weren't all that social, so making friends was a useless endeavor. I hated that first term. The next year however, I was better prepared. I started to appreciate the little things. I got to sleep in, I had almost everyday open, and my homework was incredibly small. By the end of fourth grade, I had learned to like it, but I really wanted to go back to the way things were.
My parents felt that I had improved enough to go back. They couldn't have been more wrong. We had just moved so I was put into yet another new school. The teacher's and I never saw eye to eye, we always argued. I knew no one, again, but it was easier to make friends. With the weird kids. I fit in with them easier for some reason. I didn't mind it though, back then I had no real grasp of the difference in groups of kids. Still, I excelled at all subjects, math and reading being my primary specialties. When I left, I had a small following of nerds and geeks. We all had each other's back, until that big mean guy came along. Then they scattered like roaches. However, in Middle school, I had the same group. New bullies though. Using our lack of social skills, we slowly drew more and more "social outcasts" into our group. By 7th grade, we were larger than the popular kids and the jocks combined.
Oddly enough, I had mellowed out by then too. I was calmer and easier to talk to. People were more comfortable approaching me. And I also had a slight charm. Or that is what I was told. By the numerous girls asking me out. I rejected them all, which in hindsight should have been done a bit more tactfully than I did it. I made a lot of people mad at me still. I was constantly bullied and beaten. Back then I had learned to control aggression but I was no pacifist. I fought back on occasion. I won most of the time. It helped to be one of the tallest and biggest kids around. By the eighth grade people usually steered clear of me. Except for one freak incident on the bus when I got punched in the face because of a mis-communication between my sister and I.
Halfway through the eighth grade, most of my group had dissipated, and I found myself hanging with the younger crowd. They all looked up to me, and I liked that. I protected them from the big kids who were just total jerks. Then I graduated from Middle School. It wasn't a big thing. Just a faux ceremony with a phony diploma thing. But that summer, was a life changing one. I had a friend who worked at HomeSource. Those of you just joining us, or who think that this post is too long to remember squat from earlier, HomeSource is the school I saw as very anti-social. He asked why I left HomeSource. I explained that my folks didn't feel capable to teach me everything I needed. He informed me of a new development. HomeSource and an online Charter School were going to merge. I told my folks and we both felt it would be a good idea.
So I started classes online and through HomeSource. Some of it was nice, but I had lost all my skills with math. So the next year, I took math through HomeSource. It all came back to me. I aced it and started to really like the school. However, that year, something happened, I dunno the exact details, but HomeSource and the Charter School parted ways. Homesource decided that they could become a charter school of their own and they did a good job of it. I was loving my classes, I was making friends, and I was two years away from leaving school for good. Then this year I was making friends left and right. Everyone knew me, I was well liked by kids and teachers alike, and I was excited to leave. Barely scraping out of school I was within a month of getting out when I was hit with everything.
Things needed to be done for the graduation and everyone wanted to know my plans for the future. I was rushing to get the technical aspects of the ceremony done, trying to get people to cooperate with me. Finally the week before the ceremony, I had given up on one project and I was focused on one last project and was determined to finish it. And I did finish it. I got it done 3 hours before the ceremony, with more bugs than a cheap motel.
But finally, there I was. one hour from graduating. The teachers were speaking, the slide show played, students spoke, music was played, and then they started calling people up for their diplomas. I was in the middle so there were six people before me. As the person before me was still on stage, I slowly stood and took up my spot at the edge of the stage, smiling at the MC and looking at the crowd. Then, the MC turned and said my name. I was caught off guard. Not by them calling my name, but by the number of people who applauded. The cheers were loud and the whole auditorium was in an uproar. I was confused. I was not a popular person. My family wasn't that big. Why were so many people cheering? I never found out the answer, but I approached the end of the stage where stood my mother in tears, my father, looking as proud as I have ever seen him, and my step-mom, holding back a meltdown. The rest of the night was a blur.
But I knew one thing.
I was out.
And this time, for good.
